Hope
by chocolate-chip-cookie-monster
Summary: One-shot. Cute, sweet, die, baby, love, vulnerable, perfect, and hope. A few words that describe Primrose Everdeen, or what others call/say to her. Written for Caesar's Palace "There is always some madness in love But there is also always some reason in madness" Author: chocolate-chip-cookie-monster *Very slight AU (No hunger games, & Prim lives)


**This is dfferent from anything else I've ever done before. More dramatic. Enjoy.**

**For Caesar's Palace "There is always some madness in love But there is also always some reason in madness"  
**

**Written for Irma (irmaida)**

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games

* * *

**Cute.**

_"Oh Primrose is so _cute_,"_ and _"She's a cutie!"_ or_ "Wow do you know how _cute_ you are?"_ Blah, blah, blah.

I don't like being _cute_. People always call me _cute._ But I'm not _cute._

At least, not anymore.

People always called me _cute,_ especially while I was younger. I may have been _cute_ then, but I'm not now. Everyone called me _cute._ I don't like being _cute._ Nothing about me is _cute!_ Not my physical features, like my hair, eyes or smile, not what I thought or what I do.

If only they knew.

I'm not _cute._

* * *

**Sweet.**

Everyone thinks I'm_ sweet._ I am not _sweet._ People who are _sweet_ do not think like I do. They do not do what I do. I am tortured. I will never be the _sweet_ little girl that's filled with smiles and has the perfect , flowing blond hair, and the blue eyes that shine again. No. After what I've been though. Now my eyes are dull, and my hair is flat. No one seems to notice though because I'm tied together with a smile.

If you knew what I think or what I do, you would believe me.

I am not_ sweet._

* * *

**Die.**

_A few people even told me to go and _die_ before..._

_During lunch, or recess the popular and snotty girls from the town would walk by me share a laugh and tell me to, "Go _die_ Primrose. No one would care. I know we wouldn't. Your trash," she spat the last word out at me and it stung._

_Even though It stung and I'm sweet, lovable, and a baby it didn't stop me from getting out of my seat, walking over to them and pulling them away from the crowd by their hair, and give them a punch in the face. I punched, kicked, bite, smacked and even cursed at them. I needed to get revenge._

_They avoided me from then on._

_No one calls me, Primrose Everdeen, trash. And no one, tells me to _die.

I've thought about death before. Wasn't pretty thoughts. I feel like to escape it all, the hurt, and everything I need to_ die..._

I tried it before. It never worked. I feel like I could do it once and for all... it's easy if you think about it... nothings stopping me.

No one would care.

I consider it on bad days. I would run up to my room, the attic, the slag heap, or the deepest darkest part of the seam and sit there or try to... make myself _die._ I would cry, scream and throw a fit, or take things that could kill me and try. I wanted to escape it all. But I didn't. I put on my fake smile and fooled everyone.

But some days I feel hopeless.

Some days I just want to _die._

* * *

**Baby.**

Katniss thinks I'm a_ baby._ I may be her_ baby_ sister but I'm not a _baby._ I'm a big girl. She thinks that I can't do anything myself and I always need her or someone else's help.

I'm sick of it.

They don't know how many things I've done by myself... What I said, or did. I can do things myself. I don't need any help. At all. I've been through to much to be a _baby_. I'm wise beyond my years.

I am no _baby._

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**Love, Lovable, Lover**

People say they_ love_ me, I'm _lovable_ or one day I will be a perfect _lover._ I smile, thank them and brush it off. But I know that no one will _love_ me. After the things I've done, said, and thought, I now that no one will_ love_ me. I'm not _lovable._ And that worries me. But I don't need_ love._ I've never mentioned_ love_ personally before.

No one_ loves_ me.

No one will.

Only Katniss, my mother and Peeta, Katniss' fiance, _love_ me.

I've accepted the fact that no one _loves_ me. Embraced it, really. Less drama to deal with. Besides, I don't need it_._ Who does? It's just a legend in my mind. Like an old book in the library. There's always that one book in the back corner, old, and crumpled. Covered in dust , cobwebs and other things. Behind all the boring books is the real book. The interesting one. This book is called _'love.'_

As I think about this I run up to my room and close the door. That's when I break down. And cry. And cry. And cry.

I'm not _lovable._

And that scares me.

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**Vulnerable.**

One day while I was sitting on the slag heap crying because one of the boys at school called me 'Poor Primrose.'

Sure I got him back, but it still hurt.

Rory trailed his older brother to their house, back from the woods. Rory slowed down and told Gale he would catch up. He came up to me and rubbed my back.

He then asked me, "what's wrong?"

"Everything... I just... I want to die! I want to leave this place!" I wailed.

He hugged me as I bawled into his shirt.

I never felt this _vulnerable._

* * *

**Perfect.**

Why? Why am I_ perfect_ to Rory Hawthorne? I'm no where near_ perfect_ but to him... I am.

That day when he found me crying on the slag heap, I told him everything that's wrong with me and my life. Everything that I thought or did.

He didn't judge me. He just told me that he thinks I have every right to feel the way I do. He also called me_ perfect_.

After I told him that I wanted to die, and told him everything, he followed me everywhere he could. Made sure I was never alone. He stood up for me, and helped me through dark times. He took care of me. And still does.

I like it.

As time passed we grew more close. I was 17, and he was 18. We were sitting in the meadow, I was having a bad day. I didn't want to get out of bed and I wanted to disappear. He got me out of bed and took me to the meadow. He was stroking my hair as I replayed everything we've been through.

He called me cute for the first time while I was six, when I was giggling like crazy because of something he did. "Primy, your so cute!"

He said I was sweet at 10 and a half, when I gave him a piece of my chocolate, "Yum! Chocolate! It's sweet... like you."

He called heard someone tell me to go and die at 13. "Primrose, you are so weird! Go die." His reaction? "Don't talk to her like that again, or else, I will get my older brother Gale to come and find you." He used Gale to his advantage. Everyone knows Gale and is afraid of him.

He called me baby at 15, when he greeted me. "Hey baby, how are you today?"

He called me vulnerable at 16 years old while I was brawling over a particularly horrid day. "See, this is when your your most vulnerable. Your human too."

But he hasn't told me he loves me.

Until today.

He's stroking my hair and everything's peaceful is when he says it. "Your _perfect._.. and I love you."

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**Hope.**

He gave me _hope._ He gave me _hope_ to love, and to live life freely. I feel closer to him then any other individual.

So when I run up to his house, my hair blowing, the wind whooshing past me, with a small smile on my face, and my eyes full of life is when I know I care for him. More then anyone else.

I burst through the door and shouted his name, "Rory!"

He came into the room wearing a confused look. "Rory!" I ran to him and he scooped me into a hug, I whisper the 3 little words that have a huge impact on the both of us, "I love you."

When he smiles at me, and his grey eyes light up I know that I never want to lose him.

I smile when I hear my old nickname that no one except Katniss and Peeta call me anymore-Prim...

"I love you too... Prim."

_**The End.**_


End file.
